


Come Hither

by AvaRosier



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, i'll never get tired of fashion designer!lexa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-09
Updated: 2015-07-09
Packaged: 2018-04-08 13:03:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4306161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvaRosier/pseuds/AvaRosier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lexa had selected Clarke to model her lingerie line, herself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come Hither

Contrary to what others might expect of her, Lexa likes wearing heels. She enjoys the staccato sound that announces her unhurried stride. Given how particular she is in her line of work, she relishes the thought of her employees being gripped by a wave of fear when they pick up the sound of her approach. Sure, she _could_ be stealthy and catch them unawares…but this way was so much more fun.

There are three locations in this building dedicated as a photography studio and Lexa is headed down the hallway to the bedroom setup. She rarely supervises the shoots, but given that the spring campaign may launch her lingerie company into the hottest celebrity circles, she needs to be more hands-on than usual. Especially since she had picked this particular model out herself.

 _Clarke Griffin, 24, artist_.

Lexa stalks through the open door and sees Maya, barefoot and standing over a curvaceous blonde on the mussed white sheets of the bed. She’s busy peering down through the viewfinder of her camera, one hand scrolling for the best exposure. “Hey boss,” she mutters, not bothering to look up. Lexa doesn’t take it personally. She appreciates the way Maya sees the world around her as a potential work of art. The woman has a degree in art history, after all. But Lexa’s attention is focused on the model. Clarke is craning her head backwards to peer up at her from under the fake eyelashes and dark mascara she’d put on.  Lexa suppresses the urge to let her mouth fall open and stare. Instead, she trains her eyes on Maya.

“Maya, you’re needed in the backdrop studio. Monty has had to leave and someone needs to finish Octavia’s photos. If you don’t mind, I’d like to take a few shots here.” This is not a lie, not exactly. Maya stops working her camera and blinks owlishly at Lexa, but she nods readily and steps down carefully from the bed.

“Sure, no problem. Take a look at the earlier shots and see what else you might want for this spread. Bye Clarke!”

Clarke waves from her spot on the bed, barely moving a fraction lest Lexa need her to remain there. “Bye, Maya. I’ll be sure to check out your Instagram page!”

And then, just like that, Lexa is alone with Clarke. She’s not in a hurry to examine why it pleases her so much that Clarke lies there so obediently. Lexa had meticulously checked out each potential model, looking at their behind-the-scenes videos to see how they worked with photographers. Clarke doesn’t pose, that had been what drew Lexa to her. Many models, female models, had a tendency to go for certain specific expressions and poses in order to demonstrate ‘sexy’. Lexa doesn’t have a problem with those; it simply wasn’t the aesthetic she wanted to go for.

“Hello, Clarke. My name is Lexa. I hope you don’t mind if I take over the shoot for a little while?”

She sheds her gray suit jacket, leaving herself in her peach sleeveless knit top and gray slacks. Clarke shakes her head in the negative, loose curls sliding across the sheets. “Nah, I don’t mind. Lexa, as in Lexa Heidlin, CEO and designer of  _Heda Leksa_?”

“Yes.” She answers simply, picking up the discarded camera. “Would you mind sitting at the window?”

Clarke rolls over onto all-fours then, crawling off the bed and padding gracefully over to the window where she takes a perch. Lexa regrets for a moment that she had not chosen photography as a profession—the opportunity to be voyeuristic is tempting. Clarke lowers herself onto the windowsill and crosses her legs, bending over slightly and regards Lexa with curious eyes. There’s a slight roll to her belly and Lexa feels a deep sense of pride that she won’t have it photoshopped out.

“Why did you want to start your own lingerie line?”

Lexa can’t help the arch of her eyebrow as she answers Clarke. “I’m not the one who needs to answer questions during this shoot.” Clarke simply gives her this little smug smile that says she doesn’t care.

_Click. Click._

Lexa snaps two photos, just to capture this look. This is what she’s after. This easy realism that invites intimacy with its viewers. She wants women (and men, if they were so inclined) to see her lingerie, to see the varied women wearing that lingerie as if they were going about their everyday life, and want to feel the way the models are feeling. To capture the fantasy for themselves.

“But, to answer your question, I wanted to create things that brought forth the strength and confidence from the people that wore them.” She moves around, testing the images within the viewfinder. “Why are you a lingerie model, Clarke?”

Clarke shrugs, sending a few curls down over her shoulder. There’s a catlike quality to her eyes thanks to the faint eyeliner and eyeshadow the makeup artist had applied. Her lips glisten, pale and lustrous. The black lace bra-and-panty set she wears is inspired by the kinds of cuts Lexa had seen in the bikinis of the 1960s. Clarke contemplates the question for a minute before she answers.

“Short answer, it pays the bills.”

“And the long answer?”

“Honestly?” Here, Clarke hesitates before revealing something that is probably more intimate and perhaps scandalous. She chews on her bottom lip when contemplating something of this magnitude, Lexa notices. “I like it. I like the way I feel when I’m wearing lingerie and someone’s snapping pictures of me. It’s like…music.” Her eyebrows wrinkle adorably and Lexa is sure to snap a picture of the little laugh that bubbles forth from Clarke’s lips.

“Like a dance?”

“Yeah, that’s it. Like a dance.”

Lexa knows Maya had taken quite a few pictures of Clarke in this particular set already.  

“I think it’s time for the next outfit, don’t you?”

“You’re probably right; I haven’t worn the corset set yet.” Lexa swallows hard then. She knows exactly what looks she wants to achieve with that particular lingerie set. Clarke is already heading for the long table that housed the various pieces Lexa had chosen personally for this shoot. She does her level best to focus on the previous photos on the camera and not gawk at Clarke like a schoolgirl as she sheds the black lace and stands there naked and unconscious.

She shouldn’t be expressing such a personal interest in one of her models; the least she can do is not ogle her. When she registers, out the corner of her eye, that Clarke has pulled up the frilly cream panties and is in the process of lacing the country-style corset up her front, Lexa speaks up. “Don’t lace it up all the way. Leave the top loose and undone.”

“Like this?”

Like this, means that Clarke’s breasts are spilling out of the cups, nipples just about visible.

“Yes, exactly.”

There's an antique dresser-mirror in one corner of the room and Clarke steps in front of it, studying her reflection as she combs her fingers through her hair to undo the tangles from lying down on the bed. Lexa watches her with her breath constricting in her throat.  She's already aroused- there is a warm, heavy weight between her thighs and her nipples feel tight behind the material of her bra. She knows they must be visible through her blouse so she tries not to draw attention to her chest. Instead, she continues to try not to stare at Clarke's. From behind her, Lexa holds up the camera and snaps a few pictures of Clarke fixing her lip gloss, bending over the wood on her tiptoes and giving the camera a perfect shot of her buttocks and thighs. 

 _Click. ClickClickClick_. Lexa is sure to get a lot of shots here. "Will your family and friends...your romantic partner...be okay with you being visible in the media like this?" 

Clarke gives her a small smile in the reflection before twisting around and meeting her eyes with a look that said she wasn’t fooled. "You're not very subtle, Lexa." She pushes herself up onto the dresser, using her toes to pull two of the drawers open for her feet to rest upon. "But to answer your question, my family and friends will deal. And I'm currently single. No boyfriends or girlfriends."

"Ah." 

Clarke moves her left foot onto another open drawer, forcing her thighs wider apart. Lexa's fingers tense around the focus as her eyes are drawn downwards to the way the pale material seems to barely cover her mound or the cleft below it. She takes pictures, even though she knows she will have to be careful to remove them from the camera so others don't see it. Or the way Clarke is watching her right how, her eyes not staring straight into the camera but rather at the person beyond it. 

 _Come hither_.

Like a moth to a flame, Lexa places the camera down on the nearest table and steps up to the dresser, right in between Clarke's knees.  “This is inappropriate,” she says lamely. Clarke nods.

“I know, but lately I’ve been all about doing what I want.” She reaches out and curls her fingers around Lexa’s hips, slowly sliding her hand underneath the blouse, touching warm skin. And just like that, Lexa is completely seduced. How long has it been since she had just…let go? Her fingertips dawdle on top of the wood for seconds longer before she summons enough courage to make them jump onto the soft skin of Clarke’s thighs. So bare. So now tensing and wrapping themselves around her hips, trapping her.

It’s not like she’s going to go anywhere, not now.

Lexa gives in, leans in, and cups Clarke’s head to bring her close enough for their lips to touch. Their kiss is gentle at first, but after the first tingling scrape of flesh, it becomes all teeth and sharp inhalations. It’s gratifying when Clarke lets out a barely audible moan and clutches at her back. Lexa permits herself to touch, then; to feel the play of lace ruffle on the corset where it met pliable flesh.

Then she has a handful of breast and Clarke’s practically rubbing herself against Lexa before she can play lightly with the nipple. They break the kiss for the sake of much needed oxygen and Lexa ducks her head down to dot the column of Clarke’s throat with her lips.  She feels the vibrations against her mouth when Clarke speaks.

“You know, there’s a perfectly usable bed right there…”

The reminder that this was a work building and her employees were outside that door is enough to pull her away from Clarke to stalk towards the door and close it, sliding the lock over. When she turns back, Clarke is already lounging on top of the bed, resting her weight on her elbows. This time, the staccato rhythm of her heels doesn’t inspire fear, it inspires anticipation. Lexa pulls off her blouse, lets it fall to the floor, and begins unsnapping her trousers and slides them down over her hips. The sight of Clarke biting her bottom lip as she takes in the picture before her nearly undoes her.

She’s wearing one of her own sets, as well. A pale green number made with sheer lace that truthfully, covered nothing. As much as she loves her heels, as much as they had cost her, she kicks them off and crawls onto the bed, holding the rapacious look in Clarke’s eyes as she moves over her body. Clarke lowers herself back down onto the bed, hair spread out like a halo around her head and Lexa follows, feeling contentment in her bones as she settles fully on top of Clarke. It feels so nice, having another body so solid against hers—breasts to ribcages to hipbones to calves. Clarke’s arms curve around her bare back and Lexa arches into the embrace.

Lexa kisses her again, shuddering as Clarke’s hands twist into her hair, tugging lightly. This time the kiss is wetter and she can’t help the image of their mouths on other lips. The dirty thought has her tilting her pelvis, grinding her mound against Clarke’s own, feeling the sweet clench of pleasure. She doesn’t even notice when her bra is suddenly unsnapped, but she gasps as she raises her body enough for Clarke to slide the straps of her bra off her shoulders. The corset is a bunched mess below Clarke’s breasts and when Lexa lowers herself again, her entire body becomes a live wire once their nipples graze each other.

As she slides down Clarke’s body, she tastes them, lapping at them with her tongue before closing her lips around the nubs. Clarke jerks against her weight, but Lexa continues on her downward trajectory, sliding her tongue into Clarke’s bellybutton before she teases along the line of the panties. These are her creations, and Clarke is wearing them. The thought sends a possessive sense of pride streaking through Lexa.

She raises her head and meets Clarke’s eyes, and finds her pupils nearly blown with desire. “Keep going. Please.” She barely knows this woman, but Lexa suspects that Clarke only begs when it’s truly important. The flesh below her lips trembles as she breathes hotly onto it, as she hooks her fingers into the bands of the panties. Clarke surrenders them without a fight, her legs falling akimbo onto the mussed sheets that covered the mattress. They must be soft enough for her to be squirming this way.

Most lingerie models keep themselves closely groomed, and Clarke is no exception. She’s pretty, though, pale pink flesh opened to Lexa’s gaze. She can’t resist, can’t control herself. Lexa dips down and tastes first, then again, covering the expanse of labia with her tongue before tracing along the folds with the tip. Clarke reacts with a soft shout and the undulation of her body against Lexa’s mouth. That’s what she follows, not giving in to Clarke’s blatant attempts to steer Lexa’s mouth closer to her clit but teasing her, pressing her tongue into the opening which twitches against it.

“Oh, _ohh_.” The vibration of sound from Clarke’s voice reverberates between her legs, where they bracket Lexa’s head. It all becomes so wet, so soon, and Lexa works Clarke up to a fever pitch until she’s fisting Lexa’s hair in between her fingers as Lexa’s tongue feathers itself over her clit.  Clarke isn’t shy here, either, and Lexa finds her noisy moans and tense thrusts of her hips unbelievably sexy. It’s not long, minutes really, before Clarke is spasming against her mouth and making the kind of low, throaty noises that have her grinding against the mattress.

She takes her time disengaging from Clarke, but finally Lexa presses sloppy kisses up on Clarke’s hip, then her lower stomach where she can feel her body rising and falling from the deep, panting breaths she’s taking. It’s over the corset that Lexa takes sharp nips with her teeth, intent on making Clarke squirm. Her skin is damp with sweat, and slightly pink.

“Lexa. Lexa, _god_!” She exults, grinning so widely Lexa could see the white of her teeth and the deep pink roof of her mouth. “Come here. I’m going to make you come so hard you see stars.”

Lexa barely has a chance to press a sweet kiss to Clarke’s lips before she’s being flipped over onto her back. “I’ve always found it’s not wise to make such fantastical claims before you can prove it.”

“Har, har,” Clarke chuckles, her breath hot against Lexa’s jaw. “Maybe I’ve already proven it with other people.”  She rests her chin on top of Lexa’s sternum and laughs at whatever she sees in Lexa’s expression. The very act has her canting her hips against empty space.

Clarke uses her hands to push Lexa’s breasts together, just enough that she doesn’t have to travel far to close her mouth over each nipple and lave it with her tongue. Every time she applies suction, Lexa gasps and curls her fingers tighter around Clarke’s biceps.  The teeth that then graze along the top of her ribcage are sufficient to distract her from the wandering hand that crawls down her belly, down until Clarke’s fingers are dipping beneath the band of her panties. The slick glide of a finger in between her lips reminds her just how turned on she is from the little voyeuristic performance earlier.

Lexa raises her head and sees Clarke bent over her on all fours, her breasts spilling out of the cups of the corset that never intended on containing them. Had she even dared expect this when her eyes alighted upon Clarke’s modelling portfolio, tucked in amongst dozens of others’? The cat-like blue eyes twinkle up at her even as Lexa feels the first, exploratory thrust of a finger up inside her. Her eyes flutter shut for a moment as she clenches around the welcome intrusion, and on the second pass, Clarke adds another finger.

“Much better,” Lexa moans. She bears down on those two fingers, settling into a rocking rhythm that Clarke follows. The pleasure builds and builds until it falls away as Clarke shoulders her thighs wider apart and begins to press three fingers inside her. It’s not that it’s too much…it’s just that it’s different. Three requires a different mental approach, and Lexa finds herself watching Clarke, studying her and the curve of her body as she works herself back up to the pinnacle she’d been at scant minutes earlier.

“I’m going to fuck you.” Clarke declares breathlessly, the muscles around her wrists and forearms working visibly as she thrust her fingers into Lexa. She lies back down on top of Lexa, using her weight to rock her pelvis and the palm of her hand against Lexa's pubis. The bright spark of pleasure alights, then builds up into a flame that just about consumes her before she can push herself over the edge. She holds tight onto Clarke, rotating her hips and squeezing herself more tightly around those fingers as they worked themselves in and out of her.

Lexa lets out a surprised exclamation, a high-pitched moan as the tightness in the center of her body explodes into ripples of utterly welcome relief. “Yes, fuck me.” She babbles, as her eyes shut tightly enough the light beyond oscillates against her eyelids. Starburst.

She can feel the softness of Clarke’s hair over shoulder, the press of a nipple against the sensitive skin of her side, and the near-pain of fingers digging into the skin stretched over her clavicle. “Clarke!” She sighs as her hips spank on and off the bed, riding her orgasm to the very end.

Her legs ache, along with a good percentage of the muscles in the rest of her body, as she finally collapses against the mattress, chest heaving from the exertion of her climax. Once her toes have relaxed entirely, Lexa tugs on Clarke’s arms until her model is settling herself against Lexa’s right side.

“Told you.” Clarke hums, hiding a smirk in Lexa’s shoulder.

“Can’t argue with that.” She admits.

They can’t lay there forever, Lexa knows that much. Maya will be done with Octavia and return, thinking she needs to finish Clarke's shoot. A shoot which Lexa had continued, a shoot that had suggestive photographic evidence inside the camera. God, she’d probably have to find a way to get these sheets washed before the next shoot tomorrow. She wouldn’t be surprised if Finn and Raven noticed the particular smell and asked pointed questions.

But Clarke is a warm, live weight against her and Lexa can’t help rolling over onto her side and holding her close. Maybe it’s pathetic how rich she is, how lonely, but Lexa catches Clarke’s eyes before she kisses her, hard. This still leaves the awkward question of what to do next. Lexa rubs Clarke’s shoulders comfortingly as their warm breaths mingle in the inches between them. Maybe this is nothing to her. Maybe…

“I’m willing to do a private exhibition.” Clarke tells her, eyelashes fluttering together. “If you have stuff…lingerie…at your home.” Lexa can see the fraction of uncertainty in Clarke’s expression.

“I do. And I have your number, after all. Perhaps this weekend?”

“Sure. If you have a camera, too…”

Lexa breathes in sharply. She does. Top of the line, even. “I have a bed, too." The rumble of Clarke's chuckle is second to the ripples of tingles Lexa gets from the huff of breath against her neck.

"Even more useful."


End file.
